A Day in the Life
by vanilla-chk
Summary: One of those stories that details Harry's summer at the Weasleys after GoF. It's super action-packed and WELL-WRITTEN without straying too far into scary-Voldemort-land. It isn't really a serious story, just a fun, dramatic one. So go ahead! Read/Review
1. Stormy Night

Ginny flung a sidelong glance towards Harry, who had fallen asleep on the couch hours ago. To everyone's excitement, he had rented a movie for the Weasley clan to watch on "Dad's muggle picture-box". She didn't quite remember what it was called, but she could recall that it involved what Hermione called "cops" and some modeling competition. She picked at her nail polish and let her eyes travel unabashed down Harry's unconscious body, which sported red plaid pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt. Puberty had been unseasonably kind to him, and instead of acne he received height and musculature for his fifteenth birthday. Finally her eyes fell on his wrists, which as per usual were streaked with thin red cuts. He had done an excellent job of hiding them during early June, but by July he could no longer suffer long sleeves and gave up trying to keep his nasty habit a secret. Of course the Weasleys weren't at all disgusted; they felt horrible pity for him. Frequently he would cry out at night, a sign of his terrible nightmares. However at that moment Harry looked strangely peaceful lying there on the sofa: his haunting emerald eyes were softly shut, and their thick black lashes brushed quietly against the blushing apples of his cheeks. Trailing her eyes down the pencil-straight slope of his nose, Ginny noticed that his full pink lips were slightly parted, revealing the tips of ivory-white teeth. 'He looks like an angel.', thought Ginny with smiling adoration. She glanced at the fat wall-clock. "Really really late. Go to bed!" read the perfect black type on the clock's white face. She decided not to leave Harry stranded downstairs all night, and silently crept towards him. She shook his arm gently, arousing a low, protesting rumble from deep in his chest. "Harry! Wake up," she whispered hoarsely.  
  
Harry shifted awake and fixed his sleepy gaze on the girl staring down at him. "Ginny."  
  
"Hi. It's really late, and everyone's gone to bed."  
  
Harry sat up suddenly and noticed his glasses had been folded neatly on the coffee table. "Was I asleep?" He rubbed his cheek and looked around, taking note of the desolate living area.  
  
"Yes, you were. But you can stay down here if you want, I can get you a blanket." Ginny started towards the hall closet. Immediately Harry leapt up and dashed before her, sliding his glasses up his nose.  
  
"It's okay, I can get it. I don't want to be a bother to anybody." He reached up into the high shelves and pulled out a heavy tan quilt. "Do you want to use this, too?"  
  
Ginny accompanied him back towards the sagging pink sofa. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Do you want to share my blanket? I mean, if you're still down here I'm sure you were sleeping, too." He sat comfortably in one corner of the couch and motioned for her to sit opposite of him. Not wanting to admit that she had been staring at him instead of sleeping, she gratefully accepted his invitation and plunked herself onto the old, soft fabric. Instead of sinking back into his previous sweet slumber, Harry folded his hands and stared at her expectantly. After what seemed to Ginny like an eternity of silence, he finally spoke. "Well.do you want to talk? Or do you just want to go back to sleep?"  
  
"Let's talk," replied Ginny.  
  
Harry shrugged. "Erm.how are you? What did you do today?"  
  
"I baked a mulberry pie, played Quidditch with the boys, and, of course, I watched that movie you got us."  
  
For a moment, Harry seemed to be deep in thought. "Do you ever wish you had sisters instead of brothers?"  
  
"I used to. But then after hearing all the stories my friends tell me about their evil older sisters, I decided that brothers can be good."  
  
"I wish I had brothers and sisters. That would be so much fun."  
  
"You'll have a big family some day, Harry. After you get married and have dozens of children."  
  
Harry smiled faintly. Ever since he had arrived at the Weasley's, he just didn't seem like his normally cheery self. He wasn't depressed, just not as happy. "I plan to do just that. Now all I have to do is find a wife."  
  
Ginny returned his smile. "That won't be hard. Next year you'll have girls falling all over themselves just to tread in your footprints."  
  
The spontaneous compliment surprised Harry. "You're so nice to me.why aren't we friends?"  
  
Ginny blushed. "I don't know.you're friends with Ron, and he hates sharing friends with me."  
  
"Then he'll just have to live with it."  
  
An hour passed by, and Ginny and Harry began talking like they had known each other for years. As the conversation developed, it grew deeper and more serious, as do most midnight conversations between friends. Harry found it easier to open up to Ginny than Hermione or Ron because she seemed to automatically accept him and not comment on his speech pattern or mock his statements. Ginny forgot about the towering pedestal she had built for Harry in her mind, and treated him like a normal person. She lost her timid nature and acted like she usually did around her close friends.  
  
".so then we found out that they weren't even HIS goldfish. Plus, we had to run all the way back home in the pouring rain wearing only our bras and panties."  
  
Harry laughed heartily, much to Ginny's amusement. "I can't believe the vacuum cleaner exploded like that."  
  
"We felt terrible when the ceiling caved in! I wish I could see the look on his face when he came home."  
  
Harry's laughter winded down, and once again the weary, morose expression had dominated his handsome face. He never explained his suddenly subdued personality; whenever somebody would ask him about it he'd snap at them angrily. Ever since he temporarily moved in with the Weasleys, it seemed like he had no emotions whatsoever. Ron had grown quite frustrated with this, because he had heard of the horrors of the now ominous "Third Task" and he felt that for Harry not to feel anything about it was completely abnormal. Ginny quickly fell asleep; she didn't usually stay up past eleven. Harry, however, frequently wandered around his living quarters at all hours of the night, and so now he lay awake, staring blindly at his female counterpart. He wasn't thinking of her, nor anything at that matter. nowadays he just liked to stare off quietly and block off any train of thought from passing through. Recently he had learned that thinking too much without concentrating on a certain subject would lead to thoughts of Voldemort and the appalling events of the past few months. Harry didn't like to deal with emotions; living with the uncaring Dursleys had left him incapable of doing so. Instead he just kept them inside of him, leaving his exterior icy and numb. Harry stood up and carefully tucked the blanket warmly around Ginny. He paused to inspect his wrists: the cuts were at least two days old. He yearned to release his inner pain by inflicting it on himself, and so hurried to the nearest bathroom to find a razor. This time he went deeper than he had ever gone before. It wasn't enough for a serious injury, but it was enough to hold him over for a few days. It was hard for him to sneak around in a house of eleven other people, so he had to go further each occasion just to keep the strange addiction in check. He rinsed the oddly thick, seeping blood in the slow flowing water of the sink. He watched numbly as the fresh wounds finally clotted, and he dried off his hands on a towel. He tiptoed out of the bathroom and, in the choking darkness, was unable to see the object he had just ran into. An unhappy female grumble sounded from the floor. Harry flicked on a light, and Hermione was sprawled out on the carpet. She squinted against the sudden flash of brightness and groggily noticed Harry.  
  
"Harry.you've got to stop wandering around at night." moaned Hermione from the floor. She had just arrived at the Weasley household yesterday afternoon.  
  
Harry knelt down and pulled her to her feet. "Sorry."  
  
Hermione looked up curiously. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine," came his icy response.  
  
Hermione knitted her brow worriedly. "Why are you acting like that?"  
  
"Like what?" His face showed no emotion.  
  
Hermione stared at him for a moment, then decided to change the subject. "What were you up for?"  
  
"I had to use the restroom."  
  
"Well, that's where I'm heading. Now.get some rest, you look like you need it." With that, Hermione shuffled down the hallway and into the restroom.  
  
Harry sighed, and walked slowly back into the living room. Almost as soon as he sunk back into the worn sofa, Hermione exploded into the room with a gush of wind. On the verge of tears, she held a bloody razor between her fingers. Harry watched numbly as she approached him in a flurry of emotions.  
  
"Harry, why does this have blood on it?" She clenched her teeth, and blinked back tears.  
  
Harry stared at her coldly. "I forgot to wash it off. He allowed her to shakily inspect his wrists, but covered her mouth when she was about to cry out. "You're going to wake up Ginny," he said, motioning to the sleeping redhead on the couch behind him. Hermione released a muffled whimper behind his large palm, and Harry removed his hand. She immediately clung to him like a magnet, sobbing into his shirt. "You were always a crier. I remember in first year when your crying got us mixed up with a mountain troll. And then in third year when you would go sobbing off to Hagrid's house." She continued to heave into his chest. "Stop. Stop crying, it isn't that big of a deal. 'Mione, please." Harry picked her off of his shirt and set her about a foot away. "You're so emotional," he complained. She broke off and glared up at him.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why WHAT?"  
  
"Why are you so cold? Don't you even care?"  
  
"That you're crying your eyes out?"  
  
"That- that." For once, Hermione was lost for words.  
  
"Whatsamatter? Cat got your tongue?" Harry walked cooly to the door, but just as he was leaving he called, "Don't forget to turn off the light." 


	2. The Shower

Sunlight wafted lazily through Ron's window. Harry was dozing in the guest bed, which was adjacent to Ron's obnoxiously orange Chudley Cannons bedspread. Finally the bright golden light invaded his eyelids and he fluttered them open. Two large, honey-brown eyes were boring into him. Harry suppressed a yell and stared back at Hermione, quite irritated.  
  
"What are you doing in here?" He sat up and felt around Ron's desk for his glasses. Hermione offered them to him, and he angrily accepted.  
  
"Well, good morning to you, too."  
  
"Hermione, why are you sitting on my bed?"  
  
"There isn't anywhere else to sit. The only chair is buried in boxers and ties."  
  
"That's because it's a BOY'S ROOM. You know, where girls aren't supposed to be."  
  
"I just wanted to talk to you."  
  
"And you just did. Now leave," commanded Harry, pointing towards the open door.  
  
"Stop being so hostile! What's your problem?"  
  
Harry sighed emphatically and rolled his eyes. Frustrated, he threw himself down on his pillow. "I don't have a problem. God, you keep asking me that."  
  
"Because I think you have a problem."  
  
Harry blew up. "You've already made that clear! Don't you think I'd tell you if something was wrong? You keep nagging me and bothering me to 'confess'!"  
  
"Only because I care about you!" She grabbed a healing wrist and shoved it about an inch away from his face. "You're HURTING yourself, Harry. You never used to do that. Obviously something has changed, and not for the better."  
  
"Just.stop, Hermione," said Harry in a flat, defeated tone. "If I tell you I'm okay, then I'm OKAY. You're my best friend, and if something WAS wrong, you'd be the first person that would know."  
  
Hermione was suddenly interested in a stain on the floor. She lingered in the room, hoping that Harry would say something.  
  
"That means it's time for you to go do.girl stuff." Hermione looked up at him hopefully. "No, Hermione."  
  
"Ha-rry!"  
  
"No! You can stay in here if you really want to. I'm leaving." Harry threw off his sheets and walked out the door.  
  
"What are you going to do?" asked Hermione suspiciously, poking her bushy, brown head through the slightly ajar bathroom door.  
  
Harry looked up from his position at the sink. "Auugh! Get out of here!"  
  
Hermione frowned. "What are you going to do with that razor?"  
  
"SHAVE!" Harry tried in vain to slam the door, but Hermione removed her head and inserted her foot just in time.  
  
"Sorry, but how was I supposed to know that?"  
  
Harry turned to face her, utterly annoyed. "What do you think this is on my face? Whipped cream?"  
  
"You can't blame me for worrying," huffed Hermione. An anxious expression flashed momentarily on her face before she turned and walked briskly down the hall.  
  
Hermione shook Ron's arm violently. He still didn't wake up. Ron shifted positions, and the string of drool that was once attached to his pillow was now stretched to a dangerous length and hanging precariously over his ear. Finally she smacked him on the side of the head, and he snorted awake.  
  
"Ugh? Wha.'Mione? What are you doing in the boy's dorm?"  
  
"We're no longer in school, Ron. It's summer. WAKE UP!"  
  
Ron snapped himself out of his sleepy stupor, and looked curiously at Hermione. "What do you need?"  
  
Hermione knelt close to Ron, and whispered to make sure Harry wouldn't overhear. "Ron, did you know that Harry's a.cutter?"  
  
"Yes. Everybody knows that. So what did you need?"  
  
Hermione gaped. "You KNEW? And didn't tell me?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "I didn't think it was that important."  
  
"Not important? How could you think Harry isn't important?"  
  
Ron sat up defensively. "I never said Harry was important. Hell, he's bloody important. Probably more important than I'll ever be."  
  
"So why are you not worried?"  
  
"I'm just going to leave him alone. I don't really think he wants to discuss it."  
  
Hermione paused. "Does Ginny know?" With Ron's nod, she rushed back to the bathroom and stuck her head through the door. Unfortunately, she could barely see through the thick steam.  
  
"Harry? Are you still in here?"  
  
She was answered by a shriek. Harry's sopping wet head appeared from behind a curtain. "I'm in the shower! GET OUT!"  
  
"I can't see anything, don't worry," said Hermione, fanning the heavy, warm steam.  
  
"No, I DO worry! You have no respect for privacy!" yelled Harry from inside the shower, his voice echoing against the tile walls of the bathroom.  
  
"Could I just talk to you?" she pleaded.  
  
Harry sighed and turned off the water. "Hold on, I have to put on a towel." He looked up to see Hermione's disembodied head still staring at him. "Well? Turn around!" Seconds later he emerged from the steam clad in a thin white towel. Hermione gawked at her suddenly muscled friend, an action not unnoticed by Harry. He brightened inwardly, but said nothing. He didn't feel like prolonging whatever awkward conversation they were about to have.  
  
Harry leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. "You wanted to talk to me?"  
  
Hermione snapped out of whatever girlish daze she was in. "Yes, I did." She gently took his wrist and he let her run her thumb softly over the thin, dark streaks. "About these."  
  
Harry was too subdued at the moment to argue or withdraw his wrist. "What do you need to know?"  
  
"Why do you do it?"  
  
He stared at the floor uncomfortably. "It's kind of a lot to explain."  
  
"Give me some bits and pieces." She was still holding his wrist.  
  
"It just.makes me feel better. You know?"  
  
She nodded. "Doesn't it hurt?"  
  
".Yeah. I think that's what I like about it," he answered quietly, the anger in his voice slowly dissipating.  
  
"Please don't do it any more. Please, for me?" pleaded Hermione.  
  
Harry remained silent. His expression now shifted into one of anxiety.  
  
"Why can't you just promise me that?" Hermione could feel tears beginning to well up in her eyes.  
  
"Because I can't," he answered, his voice growing hoarse. He quickly turned and hurried to his room, where Ron had lazily fallen back into slumber, and closed the door.  
  
Hermione slid down the wall and began to cry. She hated the thought of Harry being hurt. 


	3. Raging Tempers

"'Mione?" Several minutes later, Harry's damp head with its tousled black hair emerged from behind his door. Hermione didn't answer, just cried harder.  
  
"You and your constant tears," he said icily.  
  
She looked up, wet streaks shining on her cheeks.  
  
He was quiet, and for a moment he stood in the doorway, watching her remorsefully. "Sorry."  
  
"Don't be sorry," answered Hermione, wiping the tears from her cheeks and standing up.  
  
Harry bit his lip, deciding whether to go out and comfort her or stay in his room. Finally he creaked open the door and walked slowly out. "Hungry? No one's awake to already have made breakfast, but I'm sure I could whip something up."  
  
Completely ignoring his offer, she glanced down the hall to see Harry slowly walking towards her in a pair of sweatpants and a large sweatshirt. "Why have you been so mean lately?" she asked.  
  
He stopped and stood in the middle of the hallway. "How have I been mean?"  
  
"You.stopped caring about people's feelings. It seems like you have no emotions anymore, just.I don't know, coldness."  
  
"Gee, thanks," he replied sarcastically.  
  
"No, I'm serious. Be the old Harry. I like him better."  
  
Harry scowled and shook his head disapprovingly. "Whatever." He strode past Hermione and bounded down the stairs, arriving in the living room.  
  
Hermione anxiously followed after him. "What was that for?"  
  
Harry was now in the kitchen, and he whirled around to notice a rather frustrated Hermione standing in the doorway. "You just told me that you didn't like me!" he argued, "What was I supposed to do, give you a big hug and a kiss?"  
  
She advanced towards him. "I never said I didn't like you. I just said that I liked you better when you acted like a NORMAL PERSON."  
  
"Let's not start the "freak" thing again, all right? I have enough of that at home."  
  
"I never called you a freak! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" she demanded, her voice raising.  
  
"You're following me around and yelling at me!" he shouted.  
  
Hermione had grown quite incensed by now, and the tension between her and Harry was mounting. "God, you can be such a prick sometimes!"  
  
Harry remained unfazed. "That means so much to me coming from a great friend like you," he snapped.  
  
"Maybe if you didn't act like an arse I wouldn't say that!," she said, advancing further towards him and poking him in the chest at the word: "arse".  
  
"And maybe if you weren't a such a bitch you'd have other friends!" The odd twinkle in his eyes had sparked into a raging fire, and he glared at Hermione menacingly.  
  
Rage bubbled under Hermione's skin. She sprung up a hand to slap him, but he caught it and held her wrist tightly. Finally she exploded. "I bet your damn parents were happy to be slaughtered because they wouldn't have to raise YOU! I'm fucking glad they were killed because they didn't have to take on the stress of such a high-maintenance.," she stammered in a temporary loss of vocabulary, ".FREAK!," she screamed.  
  
Harry gaped at her, aghast and horrified. Even she was surprised at the terrible words that just escaped her mouth. Defeated and shocked, he let go of her wrist and backed up through the doorway that led to the living room, and consequently the first-floor stairs.  
  
"Harry, I- I can't believe I- I didn't lose my mind, there, did I?" She followed him several steps to the foot of the stairs.  
  
"No, you didn't lose your mind. You lost a friend." With a final astonished glance, he turned and walked slowly up the first flight of stairs.  
  
Harry strode quickly down the hall and up a second flight of stairs, each breath growing more and more ragged as his speed increased. He was still in shock from the intense confrontation that just took place between him and his best friend. She can't have just said that. Not her, not Hermione. The only time she had even cursed was when she received a low "A" in Potions last semester. He could hear Hermione pacing back and forth in the first floor's living room- but she was the last thing he wanted to see right now. Was he really like that? Did he really cause her to be that upset? Would he have really caused his parents so much pain? He now jogged at a moderate pace. Too many passionate emotions were whizzing through his head, each one faster than the fastest Snitch. He managed to catch one and burst through the nearest door, quickly shutting it. Almost as soon as he had done so, he slid down the wall and cried softly into his knees.  
  
"Err.Harry?"  
  
He looked up. Ginny was sitting up in her bed, staring curiously at him. Apparently last night she had woken up from her slumber on the couch and crawled upstairs to her room.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry- I'll get out of your way." He hastily stood up and turned the doorknob.  
  
"Wait- you can stay here." She threw back her covers and walked hesitantly towards Harry, who was now standing awkwardly by the door. "Oh, Harry! What happened?," she asked, noticing the tears still sitting complacently on his now slightly pink cheeks.  
  
"Hermione and I were just in a bit of a row," he answered, shamefully wiping the salty tears from his face.  
  
"Was it bad? What did she say?" To Ginny's embarrassment, she noticed that she was wearing but a large t-shirt of Charlie's. She pulled it down so that it reached at least to her upper thigh, and hoped Harry hadn't paid attention to her scanty apparel.  
  
He unconsciously ran a hand through his thick, jet-black locks. "Well, it was kind of both of our faults.she said that she's glad my parents were killed, and that I was a prick, and an arse, and a freak- but I DID call her a bitch, so that evens the scales a bit."  
  
Ginny was dumbstruck, and was silent for several seconds. "I'm going to kill her."  
  
Harry peered down at Ginny questionably. "Excuse me?"  
  
"How could she say that? To YOU, of all people! How many times did you save her life? How many times did you save the school? Bugger, I bet you've even saved the world a few times.I'm going to kill her. That's it. I am seriously going to wring that girl's neck," she threatened, saying it more to herself than to Harry. Suddenly remembering the other person in the room, she looked up at his still ruddy cheeks and threw her arms around him. "I'm so sorry that happened. You know it isn't true, right? She just said it in anger, not in truth."  
  
Harry accepted her hug and returned it. "It's just that most things said in a rage like that usually have some sort of basis in truth. I mean, she wouldn't just spit that out from nowhere."  
  
Ginny pulled her face back from where it was nestled in his upper chest, and gazed at him sympathetically. "Harry, that's not true. I'm telling you, that's such a big wet lie." Tears stemming from too many years of pent-up rage and physical abuse were now collecting in his emerald-green eyes. He quickly turned away from Ginny, but still held her loosely in his arms, ".You don't believe me, do you?," she asked, not expecting an answer. On an impulse, she pulled him close to her. He hugged her tightly, his breathing hitching and his back shaking with every sob. Too many people had hated him in his life and yelled at him the way Hermione had. Too many problems were building and boiling inside him. Too many times he had come home from a slightly better day at primary school, just to be abused and screamed at by people who were barely his family. Ginny understood, and soothingly rubbed his back. Several minutes later his tortured crying came to a full stop, but he still held Ginny protectively, his hot breath on her neck turning her cheeks a proud pink.  
  
"Harry.can I ask you a question?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Did your uncle.ever abuse you?"  
  
Harry's rhythmical breathing came to a halting stop. He released Ginny from his arms and sat on the bed numbly.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Without looking up, he responded, "Verbally or physically?"  
  
Suddenly she, too, began to feel the shrinking heat of feeling awkward and uncomfortable. "Err.either."  
  
He was still enraptured with the carpet. "A mix of both."  
  
She sat down next to him. "Like.what kind of stuff did he do?"  
  
He shrugged. "Cursed, called me things, pulled my hair.sometimes he still hits me.nothing fancy. Maybe just a punch in the eye or something."  
  
She held his right hand with both of hers. "I'm sorry."  
  
Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I don't anymore." Heavy footsteps and various sounds of bathroom appliances began to echo throughout the house. "I guess everyone's awake. Maybe your mom made breakfast."  
  
Ginny smiled softly despite the odd feeling of sadness that hung heavily in her room. "Let's go, I'm starving." She sat up and stood in the doorway, waiting for Harry. "Well?"  
  
Harry reached across Ginny's bed and picked up a pair of thin yellow shorts. "You might want to wear these." Ginny blushed nearly every shade of red in the color spectrum, and hastily pulled on the loose pajama shorts. Her reaction did not go unnoticed. "Don't be embarrassed, I think the little ducks on your underpants were kind of cute," commented Harry with a slight smirk as he led her downstairs. 


	4. Breakfast

¤*~ (A/N: Wow, this is actually turning into a story. I didn't mean for it to get this long, but I'm kind of into it now. Maybe I'll make it a REAL story, like with over ten chapters! Ooh, sounds interesting.)  
  
Harry quietly chewed a bite of his toast, carefully avoiding Hermione's penetrating gaze.  
  
"You all right there, Harry?" asked Fred, motioning towards Harry with his fork.  
  
"Something you didn't like in Mum's jam?" questioned George. Harry was now painfully the center of attention. The stares of nine Weasleys bored into him.  
  
"Maybe he needs more pancakes," said Mrs. Weasley, offering a generously full plate of pancakes to Harry.  
  
"No, thank you, I'm fine," he refused politely.  
  
"That's what you said earlier," snapped Hermione. Harry shot her a glare that could kill a small animal.  
  
"O-oh, I see what's going on, Fred," said George with a grin.  
  
"As do I, my dear brother," responded Fred, "Trouble in paradise."  
  
"Excuse me?" asked Percy, swallowing a forkful of scrambled eggs.  
  
"The perfect little group of friends is experiencing a bit of.eh, turmoil," answered George.  
  
"So to speak," quipped Fred. George agreed.  
  
"So what happened?" asked Bill.  
  
Harry was silent. Hermione pretended to be chewing so big of a portion that she couldn't speak.  
  
"You can't keep a secret from this family," warned George.  
  
"Ron knows that far too well, doesn't he?" joked Fred with a grin, "Remember what happened that one winter?"  
  
"Shut up, Fred," growled Ron.  
  
"Watch your mouth, Ronald!" sternly commanded Mr. Weasley from the living room.  
  
Ron grumbled and drowned his sorrows in orange juice.  
  
"May I be excused?" asked Harry. When permission was granted, he left the table and walked outside.  
  
As soon as the front screen door had clicked to a full close, everybody's attentions whirled to Hermione.  
  
"What happened?" "Did you get in a fight?" "Did he hit you?" "Harry'd never hit a girl! I bet she hit HIM!" "Did you hit him, Hermione?" "What did he do that made you hit him?" "I can't believe you hit him!" "Did you hit him hard?" "I bet she slapped him so hard he had a mark on his face!" "Was there any cursing?" "I remember somebody cursing in my dream!" "I bet you heard Harry and it got implanted into your mind!" "Wow, I never thought Harry would curse." "Cursing and hitting? In my household?" "Never thought the girl had it in her!"  
  
Finally Hermione had taken all she could, and stood up. "BE QUIET!" Several utensils clanged onto the tile floor, and a collective gasp was passed around the room. "I did not hit him! Admittedly I tried, but he stopped me. There was a bit of foul language-" Fred scowled and handed a smug Percy two sickles "- but nothing too dramatic. Now could you PLEASE drop the subject?" When nobody protested, Hermione released a huff of air, sat back down, and resumed eating.  
  
"Mum.may I be excused as well?" asked Ron. His mother nodded, and Ron quickly sprinted out of the kitchen and through the front door.  
  
Ron squinted in the golden sunlight of the late morning. He brushed away a small flying insect, and noticed Harry sitting on the curb in front of his house.  
  
"Oy, Harry!" Harry turned around and acknowledged Ron, who walked down the sidewalk and squatted next to him.  
  
"Hermione's real worked up back at the table."  
  
"I can imagine," responded Harry glumly. The muscles in Ron's legs were screaming in protest against his low squat, so he relaxed next to his friend on the curb.  
  
"If you don't mind me asking.what happened? 'Mione said that there was cursing, and that she tried to hit you."  
  
Harry snorted. "She's such a bitch. I can't stand her."  
  
Ron goggled. Harry and Hermione had always been fairly closer than Ron had ever been with her. "What did she DO?"  
  
Harry seemed to be over his extremely brief bout of sadness, and had now begun to grow angry. "She said that she's glad my parents were slaughtered. And that I was a prick and an arse." Harry snapped a fallen branch in two, and threw one of the halves across the street.  
  
Ron had a reaction very similar to his sister's. "She didn't!"  
  
"She did," affirmed Harry, powerfully smashing the second half against the black gravel of the street. Ron made a mental note to never get on Harry's bad side.  
  
"What caused her to say that?"  
  
"Well, it's kind of a long story." Harry noted the rather annoyed expression on Ron's face, so he began to recount the events of the last twelve hours. "You know how I have that.cutting thing?" Ron slowly nodded. "Well Hermione found something, and I guess she didn't know about it so she freaked out at me. She was crying like a waterfall, I swear. And you know how Hermione cries over EVERYTHING? Well right then I was just sick of it so I didn't sympathize with her, and then she got even more upset so I just went to bed. Then the next morning I woke up to find her staring at me. Just sitting on my bed and STARING at me,"  
  
"I hate it when people do that," said Ron, trapping a panicked caterpillar between his fingers.  
  
"Me too. So I told her to get out, but she wouldn't. She wanted to "talk"."  
  
Ron squished the poor caterpillar and slapped the sidewalk emphatically. "What's with girls and "talking about it"? God, there's nothing to talk about!"  
  
Harry agreed wholeheartedly. "I know! They're so damn sensitive sometimes. I mean, it's perfectly okay to cry or tell somebody how you feel every once in a while. Like maybe once every two or three years. But girls- especially Hermione- cry almost weekly!"  
  
"Yeah! I once saw Ginny crying over an advertisement for adopting needy children. "Ronnie, look how sad that poor little boy is!"  
  
The two boys laughed for quite a while as Harry and Ron took turns impersonating sensitive girls. ("Hey Ron, who am I? "OH GOD, Prof. Trelawney you're SO tortured! No one believes you! WAAAAAA!" "Oh I know! I know! Is it Lavender Brown?")  
  
"But anyway, you never finished your story," said Ron, after almost ten minutes of mocking the fairer sex. Harry, who was laying on the ground impersonating how Jennifer McClintock twitches when she gets worked up about something, sat up and took off his sweatshirt in the summer heat.  
  
"Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. Where was I?" He straightened his white t- shirt.  
  
"You were talking about how you left the room because Hermione wouldn't leave."  
  
"Oh. Well then I went into the bathroom to shave. And guess who shoves her head in to see what I was doing?"  
  
"She was watching you in the bathroom? Eurrgh!" exclaimed Ron, looking repulsed.  
  
"But it gets worse. Usually I take a shower BEFORE I shave, but I had forgotten because I was just in a bad mood and wasn't really thinking. So I'm in the shower, minding my own business- when I hear Hermione's voice in the room, asking where I was because she couldn't see through the steam."  
  
Ron shrieked. "She walked in on you while you were showering? That's disgusting! Did she see anything?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Fortunately she didn't. I yelled at her, but all she did was ask to "talk", so finally I said yes. She started asking me about.that thing that I do, and then she said something about how she didn't like me. So I got mad and went downstairs into the kitchen. Of course, she follows me and then we start arguing."  
  
"And that's when the cursing and hitting started, right?"  
  
"There was no actual hitting. There was an attempt, but I caught her in time."  
  
Ron paused. "Maybe you should try to straighten things out."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. Ron, talking about apologizing? That was definitely unusual. "Not just yet. I want to blow off some steam first. I feel like if I talked to her right now I'd probably bite her head off."  
  
"Harry?" called an uncertain female voice from somewhere behind the two boys.  
  
Ron and Harry whirled around to regard Hermione standing awkwardly on the sidewalk in her pajama bottoms and a small tank-top.  
  
"Talk about bad timing," mused Ron with a dry chuckle.  
  
"Go away." commanded Harry icily. Hermione shifted her weight uneasily.  
  
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I fully and sincerely apologize. That was totally out of line." She batted a fluttering butterfly away from her face.  
  
"How could you say that? What could even bring you to say that to me? That was terrible!" demanded Harry. He stood up and towered over her. Ron quickly scampered to his feet so that he could have a better perspective.  
  
"It was just kind of in the heat of the moment. I didn't think before I said that," offered Hermione.  
  
"Obviously not. Do you know how hurtful that was? Do you realize the magnitude of what you said?" He advanced towards her menacingly.  
  
"Look, if you don't want to accept my apology you don't have to," she stated defensively.  
  
"Fine. Then I won't." Harry strode easily up the sidewalk and into the house.  
  
Hermione stayed where she was, a bit shocked.  
  
"You really did it this time, 'Mione," quipped Ron, who had been quietly observing their argument.  
  
She opened her mouth to argue, but decided against it and slowly walked into the house. 


End file.
